The Sun Is Also a Star: Shines sweetly

The Sun Is Also a Star (2019) • View trailer 
3.5 stars. Rated PG-13, for suggestive content and brief profanity
By Derrick Bang

It’s refreshing to see a young adult romance that doesn’t involve people who are white and wealthy.

And aren’t suffering from some exotic, debilitating or fatal disease.

Despite her analytical cynicism, Natasha (Yara Shahidi) finds it hard to resist the charm
assault that Daniel (Charles Melton) mounts so effectively.

Director Ry Russo-Young’s The Sun Is Also a Star is a sweet little charmer, graced with the comfortable chemistry between stars Yara Shahidi and Charles Melton. Scripter Tracy Oliver hits the essential plot beats of Nicola Yoon’s best-selling 2016 novel, although the faith-oriented content is absent (likely viewed as one subtext too many, in a film already laden with considerable emotional baggage).

Russo-Young and cinematographer Autumn Durald also deliver a dreamy portrait of New York City at the bustling height of its melting-pot boisterousness: a vibrant, richly diverse cacophony of cultures, languages, colorful storefronts and wonderfully bizarre public art. It’s a side of the city far removed from Manhattan’s chic opulence, and much more exciting for this absence of aristocratic hauteur.

Jamaica-born Natasha Kingsley (Shahidi) is in a panic, desperately trying to reverse a deportation order mandating her family’s immediate return to their native country. Her father brought them to the States illegally almost a decade earlier, hoping for the better life of an American dream; a random ICE sweep now threatens to rip 17-year-old Natasha from the city she loves, and the educational opportunities that mean so much.

It’s literally the last day before they must return to Jamaica. Natasha leaves their apartment, hoping to get an early morning appointment with a U.S. Customs and Immigration Services (USCIS) case handler.

Elsewhere, first-generation Korean-American Daniel Bae (Melton), college-bound and carrying the weight of family expectation, heads off for a crucial final interview that could determine his entry to Dartmouth. His doting parents (Keong Sim and Cathy Shim) have long desired that he become a doctor — a plan emphasized via Korean ritual, when Daniel was but an infant — but he’d far rather be a poet.

Natasha is pragmatic to the point of cynicism, believing solely in reason, science and logic; if it can’t be quantified and/or manipulated, it doesn’t exist. Daniel is creative, passionate and open to the mysterious, mischievous vagaries of fate, destiny and dreams. He firmly accepts the caprice of deus ex machina improbability (and when’s the last time a film made an ongoing metaphor of that literary phrase?).

Imagine Daniel’s surprise, then, when he glimpses a young woman amid the bustle of the city’s Grand Central Terminal — Natasha, of course — who’s wearing a jacket emblazoned with those three words. She vanishes within the hundreds of commuters dashing hither and yon, but then sheer chance brings them together on the nearby surface streets (a scene staged quite cleverly by Russo-Young and editor Joe Landauer).

Daniel is transfixed by her mere presence; we sense that he not only believes in love at first sight, but has been smitten by it. Natasha, instinctive wariness evaporating in the face of his enthusiastic charm, acknowledges his kindness but — with tolerant amusement — denies his breathless romanticism. Love isn’t real, she insists; it’s just hormones.

Give me a day, he replies, and you’ll fall in love with me.

I don’t have a day, she answers, with a bit of regret that surprises her. (Shahidi carries this scene with graceful subtlety.) We understand the refusal; thanks to a sympathetic USCIS agent, she has managed to get a noon appointment with an immigration attorney. Her desperately quixotic quest continues.

Then give me an hour, he parries, armed with Melton’s heartfelt gaze and irresistible smile.

And we know that — somehow, despite their respective scheduling conflicts — he’ll get the entire day.

But this premise isn’t a slam-duck sell, even for moviegoers sympathetic toward the notion of impulsive ardor. This is the most consequential day for both Natasha and Daniel: one that demands unwavering focus. And they’re going to permit the distraction of falling in love? We can’t help getting edgy, while worrying that both will behave quite irresponsibly.

To their credit, Shahidi and Melton are effervescent enough — as a budding couple — to allay such fears. Then, too, Oliver’s screenplay moves in clever, unexpected directions that occasionally reinforce the notion that Fate has, indeed, taken a guiding interest in these young lovers.

Aside from their sparkling on-camera performances, Shahidi and Melton also narrate whimsical flashbacks and explanatory asides that playfully interrupt the story: montages of still photos, fleeting animation and video clips that (for example) explain Natasha’s fascination with astronomy, or how South Koreans came to dominate the U.S. hair care and beauty supply industry, particularly in black neighborhoods. (And boy, that’s a fascinating saga.) 

Flashbacks also reveal the depth of love Natasha shares with her parents, particularly with her doting father (Gbenga Akinnagbe), who is resigned to the family’s fate, and wishes that she would accept the inevitable.

Daniel’s family situation is more complicated, particularly with respect to his thuggish older brother, Charlie (a role ludicrously overplayed by Jake Choi). We get it: Charlie is ashamed, as the first-born son, at having failed to live up to his parents’ expectations. But that doesn’t justify Choi’s relentlessly nasty and vicious behavior.

The dynamic shared by Daniel and his parents is more credible. As per Korean custom, they insist that he place family tradition and responsibility before personal desire; as per the American experience, Daniel yearns to follow his own path. Disappointment therefore hovers over these three people like a shroud; Sim and Shim often suggest heartbreak solely via expressions of silent dismay.

Music supervisor Warren Fischermost frequently punctuates these events with vibrant, multi-cultural pop songs that reflect the energy of the diverse New York neighborhoods. Icelandic composer Herdís Stefánsdóttir’s occasional underscore touches — most tellingly solo piano and strings — are equally effective at key moments.

Russo-Young’s pacing feels a bit slow in spots, although she and Oliver work hard to keep their 100-minute film as captivating as possible. For the most part, they succeed; The Sun is Also a Star is a charming showcase for its two stars, and a welcome alternative to standard-issue Hollywood treacle.